Acceptable Risk
by Oparu
Summary: AU. Commander Kathryn Janeway has been serving as Picard's Number One for only a few months when she must go undercover to rescue Beverly from the Maquis. She must rely on ex-Commander Chakotay to bring her home. J/C. B/JL. Friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Commander Kathryn Janeway had been impulsive enough to have a single one night stand in her mostly quiet love-life. Even in that she was sentimental and had kept in touch. The subspace messages they sent back and forth were far from love letters, most of hers were about adjusting to life on the _Enterprise_: of Captain Picard's quiet grace as a commanding officer and the constant teasing from his wife, Doctor Beverly Picard, that she'd come to realise was a well-meaning sign of affection. The most intimate their letters had been was the about Mark. She'd written late one night, and desperately thought of deleting it before her loneliness won out and she sent it.

Mark Johnson, who was safe, loving and gentle but had no desire to join the other Starfleet spouses on the _Enterprise_. Nothing she could say about the incredible opportunity it was for her to be the legendary Captain Picard's first officer, or how many new species and diplomatic missions the flagship of the Federation went on mattered to him. Mark wanted to stay on Earth, and while she'd been training and assigned to short-range missions like the _Bonestell_, that had been fine.

The _Enterprise_ was no science vessel, like her early postings, nor a heavily armed, short-haul escort ship like the Bonestell. The _Enterprise_ was the crowning jewel of the Federation fleet. She stayed out for months at a time, returning to Earth rarely and briefly. She was a great bird, a free, galaxy-spaning Albatross who wanted nothing more than to see what was out there and Kathryn loved it.

He understood, her lover of that one night, that the great romance of space exploration, was not a trivial fling that one could set aside for hearth and home. Home was the ship one was on and the course she followed. Chakotay understood that. When she'd received the last letter from Mark: the one that ended it, the rebellious voice in the back of her mind that had never truly believed Mark was right insisted that Chakotay would have joined her on the _Enterprise_. He would have supported her, because even through subspace, he always did.

Now, sitting in what had to be one of the the dingiest little clubs she'd ever been in, the air full of the scent of old salt, stale liquor, sweat and dirt, Kathryn tried not to think about the dreadful things that had been in her metal mug before it held the opaque, vaguely herbal swill that passed for beer on this damn planet. The bartender tossed a plate in front of her, bent metal with rice, a sauce that resembled tomatoes with the life boiled out of them and meat. The bread was tough but edible, and the sauce was enough to soften the crusts, even if it had no culinary value and barely any taste.

"I wouldn't eat much," Chakotay said softly as he passed behind her. His fingers brushed her back, displacing her hair and sending a shiver down her spine. He sat across from her, leaning low over the table. In his civilian leathers, what must serve as a Maquis uniform, he looked rakish and dark; nothing like the thoughtful Starfleet anthropologist she'd met at the wedding. The wedding was part of another life, before the treaty that had put Chakotay's home on the wrong side of the border and before his father had died defending it. There were new lines around his dark eyes and an anger in his body that smouldered even when he smiled. A new tattoo graced his temple, and if she'd had time to ask its significance, she would have, but now was not the time for curiosity.

"Our food's not gourmet, but it's better than this," he waved his hand over her plate and dropped it to hers. "I like your hair down."

"You told me to look like I was running," she replied in a whisper. Thanks to Doctor Selar, she had a fading black eye that was a sickly shade of yellowish green, fresh reddish bruises in the shape of fingers around her neck and a poorly healed scrape on her cheek. Her hair was mostly down, but dirty and unkempt.

"My compliments to your doctor," he muttered back, hiding a grin behind his cup. "She does exquisite work." He slid closer, and as she'd been told, Kathryn counted out a few coins and lay them on the table between them.

He ran his fingers over them, and then slid his hand up arm. When he reached for her face, Kathryn flinched, pulling away as if he meant to strike her.

"Good," he whispered. "Very good." Chakotay picked up her bread, taking it from her hand and giving a look that was half-smile, half-leer. "When I leave the table, wait a few moments then follow me. Keep looking around. Is your cover-?"

He didn't have to finish the statement.

Picard slunk in like a predator looking for an easy kill. He too was out of uniform, and while Chakotay's leathers held him blend in, everything about Picard's deep red and black screamed danger like a poisonous snake. He stood by the bar, but didn't order. Instead, he used it as a vantage point to scan the room. He raised an eyebrow at the Orion trader, matched gazes with the Nausicaan until he backed down and ignored all the others until he saw her.

Kathryn tried to hide, but did a poor job of it, just as she was meant to. When she tried to run, she tripped on the floor and fell perfectly into Picard's outstretched arms. His grip was kind, but his face was harsh and his voice was cruel.

"You hide here," he growled, then spat on the floor at her feet. "Here, in this cesspit. Did you think I wouldn't find you? That I can't find you on any planet, on any ship, anywhere you might attempt to hide."

She pulled back, flinching away from him as if she'd been running from him all her life. He released one arm, raising the other to cuff her across the face. Cowering in his rough embrace, Kathryn caught the apology in his eyes. Picard hadn't wanted to hit her, he thought it overkill, but Kathryn swore she wouldn't hold it against him. It was for Beverly, and that, above all other things, had convinced him.

As the alien refuse of the seedy bar backed away from them, she cowered, holding her hand against her soon to be swollen lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered, swagging in his arms. "I'm sorry. I'll never-"

He lifted his hand again, holding it over her head like a death sentence. Kathryn cried out, fleeing desperately back to avoid another blow. Picard stopped before he cuffed her and in a flash of steel his knife was in his hand. Letting it pull the fabric tight over her breasts, he traced it down her chest.

"You'll never," Picard repeated, his voice like frozen gravel. "You'll never..."

She caught his arm, pulling them together. "I'll find her," she promised. "Just do it."

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear just before the knife sank into her stomach, just beneath her ribs.

As they'd practised over and over, the blade sank into her flesh exactly where Selar had demonstrated to them. The pain took her breath away and whited out her vision. Kathryn had tears in her eyes as she sank down to the floor; both hands pressed over the wound as it began to ooze with blood. It coated her fingers and seeped into her clothing. The pain radiated from the wound, stealing breath as she fought to keep conscious.

The phaser blast cut through the silence, forcing Picard from her. Chakotay fired again, and again, until Picard was gone and the entire bar was starting to clear. In the chaos, she half-stood, dragging herself up enough for him to catch her under the arms and pull her away. As they crossed the threshold into the street, he leaned close to her ear.

"Faint and I'll carry you."

"I'm fine," she snapped back. Blood ran down her hip and was starting to reach her knee. It was messy, but it was a flesh wound. If Picard had hit her liver, she'd be dead already.

"I'm not being chivalrous," Chakotay promised her. "It's part of your cover. Trust me."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two Bajorans start to come towards her. Letting her knees go weak, she crumpled into his ready arms. He swung her up easily, as if she weighed little. Letting her head go limp was the hardest part, but she allowed it to loll over his arm.

"What did you find Chakotay?" a woman's harsh voice asked. "A lost rabbit?"

"He is one for strays," the man agreed. His voice was deeper and softer. "What will you do with her?"

"Her husband's a Cardassian collaborator," Chakotay explained. "She tried to buy her way off-world on one of our ships."

"And he didn't like it," the woman sneered. Her cool fingers touched Kathryn's cheek and neck. "Or her, apparently."

Other hands, most likely the man's pressed cloth over her wound. Kathryn jolted in pain. Chakotay flipped her up, burying her head in his shoulder as she nearly cried out.

"She'll need the doctor," the man holding her side said. "She's lucky we still have that _Enterprise_ doctor. One of ours may have had some trouble with this."

"I couldn't leave her, Seska," Chakotay explained. "We can put her in with Doctor Picard until we find a way to get rid of them both. We're not in the business of having captives."

"We could always ransom the Doctor," the woman, who seemed to be Seska, suggested. "Surely the wife of the great Picard is worth an industrial replicator or a shipment of medical supplies."

"We're not terrorists or bandits," Chakotay reminded her with a sharpness in his voice than Kathryn had never heard before. "When we can release Doctor Picard safely, we will. Until then, we are lucky she will assist us at all. She's saved several of us already."

The mechanical hum was a ship's rear hatch. Not Federation, but maybe Bajoran, Kathryn couldn't be exactly sure from the tone. Chakotay set her down in the back. Lying her gently on the floor, he checked the crude bandage on her abdomen then leaned close enough to whisper.

"It's less than an hour from here, stay quiet, we'll be there soon."

Kathryn squeezed his wrist, kept her eyes tightly closed and tried to think of anything but the pulsating agony in her side. She'd been injured before, broken bones, phaser burns, and she could work through all of them provided she had something to do. Lying in the back of a Maquis ship, she assumed she was being flown into their camp without even a communicator to beam them out when she found Beverly.

Since Beverly had gone missing seven days ago, Captain Picard had been beside himself. If she had met him now, she couldn't have been able to tell, but over the last few months, Kathryn had learned that his emotions were there. Starfleet had been torn between launching a full assault against the Maquis or trying to find some way to relate to them. The Maquis had no formal leader and there was no way of knowing who to negotiate with, or which group had her.

Contacting Chakotay had been a long shot from the beginning but she'd been willing to try anything while Starfleet and the Federation were tied up in official channels trying to get permission from the Cardassians to search for her. Picard had no trust for Cardassians. Kathryn had read his file, but even that horrific description hadn't prepared her for the emptiness in his eyes when he'd looked across his desk and told her how much he worried for his wife's safety if she had fallen into the hands of the Cardassians.

Chakotay's insane and dangerous plan was the only chance they had of getting close to Beverly. Even if all they accomplished was making Kathryn a hostage as well, at least Beverly wouldn't be alone. She would bring her home, no matter what it took.

* * *

"Doctor, doctor, The ship's coming back," Ekahla called from the doorway into what served the Maquis village as an infirmary. Beverly sighed, pulling her thick red hair tighter into the band that held it. The little Bajoran girl was quick with her enthusiasm and slow with details. Would anyone else on the ship be injured? Were they bringing the medical supplies they needed? Were they finally over their obsession with security and ready to let her go?

An overzealous Maquis transporter program had brought her aboard a raider that was trying to steal medical supplies from the _Enterprise_. Unable to transport her back without risking their capture, the little ship had fled the _Enterprise's_ tractor beam with her on board. As captors went, the Maquis were polite, stand-offish, stubborn and paranoid, but polite nonetheless.

She dragged herself off the stones, cursing fate for bringing her to this desperate place when her body was least able to handle it. Thirty-seven weeks was far too close to her due date for comfort, but she would be fine. She had time, Beverly reminded herself. Jean-Luc's daughter, their daughter, would just have to wait to be born until she was home safe on the _Enterprise _and that was all there was to it. She didn't have to go far from the makeshift infirmary before Chakotay brought her patient to her.

"One of the Cardassian collaborators stabbed her," Chakotay explained as he lay the unconscious body of the petite woman on one of the unoccupied cots. "It didn't seem serious, but she lost consciousness on the ride back."

"I suppose I should be grateful she didn't get in the way of a disruptor," Beverly replied darkly. She grabbed one of the stolen medkits, the one she'd made her favourite over the last few days, and slowly sat down on the floor. Crossing her legs made it possible to sit for awhile, but nothing was ever comfortable.

One of the elders, a woman who was part of Chakotay's former village called Iabara, touched her shoulder and handed her a cup of tea. "I'm sure you'll put her right, Doctor. The spirits think well of you."

"Thank you," she said, taking the tea. "Tell them I appreciate their support."

Beverly held her tea in one hand, opened her kit with the other and ran a tricorder over her patient. She was human, female, around thirty-five years of age. She was either military or led an exceptionally dangerous life. She'd had several injuries repaired over the years, and most of them in a Starfleet hospital. Beneath the blood-soaked make-shift bandage on her side was a deep knife wound that had just skimmed the patient's liver. She took a long drink of her tea and set it down. This would take awhile, whether the spirits helped her or not.

Glancing up at the patient's face, Beverly gasped in shock. Even with the bruises, her freshly swollen lip, the dirt and the scrape across her cheek, Kathryn was easily recognisable. She dragged the tricorder back up and kept reading. The bruising was faked, brilliantly so but the split of her lip was real. Beverly had taught Selar that technique for creating old bruises and she recognised it. So they'd snuck her in here by letting Chakotay rescue her. He had to be involved. He'd met Kathryn before and Beverly knew they'd maintained a correspondence.

Filling a hypospray with a local anesthetic, Beverly numbed Kathryn's abdomen and studied her clothing. She could ease off the jacket, but the undershirt was ruined.

"Ekahla," she called. "Ekahla, my patient is going to need a shirt. See if you can find one, will you?"

The girl nodded, running up to take a look. "She's human."

"Yes," Beverly answered, using her laser scalpel to split Kathryn's shirt down the front. "Chakotay said she was trying to get away from a Cardassian collaborator."

"Why would anyone work with them?" Ekahla asked, her young face contorting with hatred. "The Cardassians are monsters."

Beverly sighed, she couldn't just say they were, even if she believed most of the time. "Sometimes it may seem that way. I don't know much about Cardassians, I've never talked to one the way I talk to you. I've never had one trust me, and I never trusted one of them."

"I'll never trust one."

"You never know," Beverly smiled at her as she finished peeling Kathryn's shirt from her body. "When my Grandmother was a little girl, younger than you are, she was terrified of Klingons. She thought all of them were monsters and she didn't know how we could ever be friends with them."

"The Klingons have rules," Ekahla argued. "They have honour. If they made a treaty with us, they would keep it. Not like the Cardassians."

"Now I have a friend who's a Klingon and he would agree with you. They've been our allies for a long time and we have great respect for each other's cultures." As she worked, Beverly pulled cotton out of the stab wound and wished, for the hundreth time since she'd been kidnapped, for a biomedical scanner. If she had sickbay, she could construct the wound on her screen and clean it automatically. Here she had to use the microforceps and do her best on her own.

"But my grandmother was still afraid of them once," she continued.

"Are you saying my grandchildren might be friends with a Cardassian?" Ekahla asked suspiciously.

"Stranger things have happened in the universe," Beverly promised. "Now, if you go find me that shirt, I can be done with her injuries by the time you get back."

The child scampered off and Beverly sighed heavily. Refugee camps and shattered villages were no place to grow up. If these villagers had just allowed the Federation to resettle them, Ekahla could be in school instead of learning morality from a kidnapped Starfleet doctor with an awful crick in the base of her spine.

"I don't know what Jean-Luc promised you in exchange for coming out here," Beverly muttered sarcastically down Kathryn's unconscious form, "but it better have been something good."

"She came because she knew me," Chakotay said, emerging from the shadows of one of the doorways. He had a way of being everywhere. "I heard you talking to Ekahla."

"You don't agree," Beverly replied, digging a few threads of out the fringes of Kathryn's wound. She was almost ready to sterilise it.

"You have an optimistic heart," Chakotay continued, crossing the room to kneel down next to Kathryn and watch Beverly work. "She took a great risk coming here."

"You took a big risk helping her save me," Beverly reminded him. "I know how your people feel about Starfleet, and it's just a few steps higher than how you feel about Cardassians." Her comment was light enough, but his face hardened into a stone mask of anguish.

"This isn't Starfleet's concern," he snapped, suddenly cold. "If it was, the Cardassians wouldn't be a problem and a lot of people would still be alive."

Beverly recoiled a little, keeping her eyes on her work and taking the attempt at levity out of her tone. She finally had the wound clean enough to sterilise and she ran the sterilising field over Kathryn's skin again and again before she used the smaller unit to clean the inside. The liver damage would only require minor work and the injury itself was almost perfectly benign.

"Who stabbed her?" she asked, trying to change the subject. "It's a little extreme to actually wound her before bringing her here."

"Her service record is too clean," Chakotay replied, taking the sterile generator from her hand and holding it up with a light so she could work easier. "No one would believe someone with her record going rogue for the Maquis."

"You couldn't just pass her off as a former lover who just couldn't live knowing she was apart from you?" Beverly asked, trying her smile again.

This time he returned it. "You're a romantic."

"A hopeful one," Beverly retorted. Her laser suture ran over the damage to Kathryn's liver and she had to trust her experience as much as her tricorder. She'd had worse conditions, but this was frustrating. She just had to rely on her senses. "If this was your work, you were just a little too low. Half a centimetre higher and I wouldn't have to repair her liver."

"That was Captain Picard," Chakotay explained, grinning a little. "He made a very convincing merciless thug."

"And yet I can never get him to take a part in any of my plays," Beverly complained, sealing a vein that had been responsible for most of the bleeding. "There we go," she murmured victoriously. "It's just the skin and muscle tissue now."

"She'll be all right?"

"I'm a miracle worker, remember?" Beverly teased. The crick in her spine ceased being painfully numb and flared up to an electric, shooting pain before she had to shift position.

"And you?"

Beverly set down the laser suture and rolled to her hands and knees. Stretching slowly in a yoga pose, she eased the pain away for the moment. When she sat back up, Chakotay was watching her. "I need to go home. Not that I don't trust you or the people here; I belong with my husband." She smiled weakly down at her belly before she looked up at him. "I've been promising him he'd be there when she arrives. It means a lot to him."

"Kathryn knows that," he said, taking a long look at the pale skin Beverly had just repaired. "I think that's why she volunteered after I sent her a really terrible plan. Captain Picard has had quite an effect on her."

Beverly smiled a little easier when he relaxed.

"I can't stay here too long, but I'll come check on you both when she wakes up." He touched Kathryn's shoulder as he passed. There was a sweetness and a familiarity in the gesture that spiked Beverly's curiosity. When Kathryn was awake again, at least they'd have something to talk about.

* * *

"We could just pass them both off to the Orions," Seska growled. "Let them deal with them."

"A non-aligned transport, the Yridians or the Grisari, would be kinder," B'Elanna volunteered from her seat on the floor. "Doctor Picard can claim asylum the moment they cross the Federation border. The Orions can't be trusted to turn them over to Federation authorities."

"But they will turn us over," Mike argued. "How do we know that we can trust Doctor Picard and this woman not to tell Starfleet everything they know."

"A woman who was unconscious when we flew her in?" Chakotay reminded them, wishing they didn't have to be so paranoid. "She knows very little about us. Unless she's capable of finding her way by the stars and drawing a map for the Cardassians." He glanced around his fellow Maquis. It was far from a staff meeting on a Starship or a morning briefing at the Academy. His life had once been organised, full of rules and regulations and now he had ramshackle democracy and two Starfleet officers he was honour bound to get home.

"I'll wait for Macias and Kalita," Chakotay decided for his group. "We'll decide when they get here." Seska's expression was still dour, but B'Elanna and Mike were both happy to take him at his word and move on to the next problem in their day. A fussy targeting scanner on one of the raiders and a shield grid badly in need of repair before it went up against the Cardassians again. Beverly and Kathryn were his problem, and with the exception of Seska, who trusted no one, everyone else in his camp would welcome having a doctor and ignore yet another human refugee as long as Kathryn made herself useful.

He sighed, leaving the small stone building they used as headquarters and walking out along the edge of the cliff. The view wasn't much during the day. The Badlands made for lousy skies that were more grey-brown then blue, but the sunsets and sunrises were nothing short of incredible. He leaned against a scrubby tree and let the smell of the wind ease his thoughts. He was a rebel, not a monster and he would find a way to get both of them home safely. The sun sank down towards the distant mountains and turned the lowest rim of skin to orange.

Perhaps Beverly had been right all along. It would have been easier to have made a deal with her husband as soon as they'd taken her. Everything he knew of Captain Picard suggested he was a reasonable man. Anthwara respected him very much, even though he had not been able to write a workable treaty with Picard. If the _Enterprise's _captain commanded that much respect from a wise leader like Anthwara, then perhaps they could...

They could what? Put Beverly and Kathryn on a raider just outside the Badlands and let the _Enterprise_ pick them up the next time they were on patrol? The chances were just better than 50-50 that a Starfleet ship would pick them up first. Even then, all it took was one gung-ho Starfleet security officer who wanted to bring down the Maquis and Chakotay would have two more deaths on his conscience. The Caradassians had taken too many. They would never get their hands on Kathryn. Not while he still had breath to fight them. Did she know that? Had she been so willing to throw herself into his hands because she still trusted him?

He'd been sure that once he'd left Starfleet her letters would have stopped. At the very least he'd expected a subspace lecture on the finer points of Starfleet duty and obligation. Instead of fire and disappointment, all she'd had for him was empathy. Her father was dead and losing him had sent her into a spiral of depression so dark that she'd never expected to leave it behind. Chakotay had read her letter with a mute kind of envy. Perhaps depression was the same as anger, only directed inwards instead of outwards like his rage.

"No irons?" Kathryn asked, calmly strolling along the ridge towards him. "I came to and I wasn't chained to the bed."

His laugh was a lot darker than it would have been just a few months ago when they met. The innuendo she meant gently stirred something in his stomach. Beverly had healed the bruises on her face, real and faked. Kathryn's thick auburn hair was down and the simple, undyed shirt they'd found for her was just too large enough to make her look smaller. She'd had to roll up the sleeves and the split neckline fell just a little lower than was decent.

"We're civilised barbarians," he replied, smiling as she ducked under a branch and chose one to lean on. "It's good to see you in the flesh, even if the circumstances are less than ideal."

Kathryn's infectious little smile faded and she reached for his shoulder "Chakotay-"

He knew she was about to mention his father, and instead of letting her dredge up that pain, he stroked her cheek. When she didn't pull away, he slipped his fingers deeper into her hair and pulled her close enough to kiss. With the tree branch between them, he couldn't pull her that close to him. She gasped, surprised by kiss but she met his ardour instead of pulling away. Her ips were warm and sweet. Tasting her, Chakotay remembered better times.

"You deserve better," he whispered as they broke apart.

"Than you?" she smirked, ducking under the branch between then and insinuating herself between him and the trunk of the tree. The bark rustled behind her and he dropped his hands to her slender hips.

"Than Mark." He'd read that letter twice before he'd thrown the PADD across the room.

"I knew it wasn't going to work," she confessed, her hands clinging to the tree behind her. "I never would have-"

"But we did." He ran his hand up her side, brushing his thumb over her breast.

Kathryn's smirk returned and her knee brushed against his leg. "Well, I'm not the not the type to jump into bed with just anyone."

Chakotay had known she felt guilty. One drunken night together was nothing to feel guilty about in his mind, but she'd been the one with the fiancé. They'd left it alone, becoming friends who never spoke of their beginning. Now she was free and he was the one trapped. Mark had redeeming qualities, and he'd made her happy when she'd needed someone. The Maquis couldn't make him happy, but it did keep him the rage from burning through the last of his humanity.

She let go of the tree and pulled his head down to kiss him. Kathryn kissed him harder than he had, invading his mouth with her tongue. Pressing her against the tree, Chakotay lifted her slightly off the ground before she let him go.

He held her cheek, losing himself in her deep blue eyes. "I can't be more than this."

"Who said I wanted anything more?" Kathryn purred. She flicked her eyes wickedly from left to right. "So, your bunk or mine?"

He backed away, letting her free long enough to take her hand and lead her away. "I have something better."


	2. Chapter 2

Sunset forgotten, they walked through the trees as the light faded. The lazy desert insects droned around them and Kathryn stuck close behind him.

"The stars will be out soon," he promised, sliding her back down. "They're a little blurry because of the plasma storms, but they're definitely worth a look."

The ridge behind the village looked out onto a vast empty valley. He waved his hand over the dark vista and grinned at her as they stopped. "When the sun's up you can see for several kilometres."

Chuckling, she followed his hand and put her hands on her hips when she faced him again. In the waning light, she was black and grey silhouette, but his mind was more than capable of filling in her beauty.

"When it's dark I can see about a metre," she quipped. "Maybe half."

"Come towards the sound of my voice," he teased, backing along the trail he had memorised.

"It's not that bad, Chakotay. You're the black blob against the grey."

She still took his outstretched hand and held it firmly. When they reached the rock outcropping where he meditated occasionally, he sat down. The stone behind him was still warm from the day and being able to put some distance between the village and himself for a little while always calmed him.

Kathryn stood over him, still peering out at the darkness. There wasn't much to see now that the sun was almost all the way down, but it didn't seem to bother her.

He reached up his hand to her, stroking her thigh to gain her attention. She turned her face down towards him and he could make out a smile.

"It's beautiful here, isn't it? All desert and stubborn trees as far as the eye could see." She sank down next to him; her gaze suddenly on him instead of the vista. "Is it better than Starfleet? Being out here? Are you-"

"I don't think about it," he explained, reaching for her waist and pulling her closer.

She straddled his leg, almost in his lap. Kathryn's voice was soft, and he could imagine seeing sympathy on her face. "You think about Cardassians."

Chakotay's dry chuckle was humourless and made her smile that much more poignant. "I think about my people. I think about keeping them safe."

Kathryn began to argue, but she stopped herself before he had to. "I didn't come out here for you," she told him, but he wasn't sure if either of them believed it. "I'm here to bring Beverly home."

"That was your plan," he corrected her, running his hands up to cup her breasts before pulling her ever closer to him. "Right now, you're out here for me and that's nothing shameful."

She kissed his cheek and Chakotay felt her smile. "I've never been ashamed of you."

He caught her top and tugged it free from her trousers and belt. Beneath the borrowed shirt, all she wore was a thin, flimsily-not-Starfleet, bra. Her nipples responded immediately to the friction of his hands as they passed over her breasts. She sighed, changing position to kneel over his lap. The weight of her was slight, and he eased her closer still. He wanted the heat of her directly over him as his arousal began to harden further. Kissing her had been more sensual than anything he'd done for the last few weeks since his father had died. He hadn't felt much since then, but Chakotay felt her now.

Her fingers nimbly began to pull his shirt off his shoulders. He helped her and shrugged out of it. Laying it on the stone, he nuzzled her breast through her bra until he earned another breathy little gasp. Kathryn removed it herself impatiently, then guided his fingers to the incredible soft flesh of her breasts. They filled his cupped hands, surprising him again with their abundance. Her uniform hid her figure too well.

Kissing her as he crushed her to his chest, he put aside the gnawing anger in his gut and tried to remember how he'd been before, when he'd been innocent. The last time he'd been pressed against her body, he'd believed in the universe. He'd had principles and dignity. Now touching her was as close as he came to dignity, and her trust was his only honour.

Kathryn wriggled free of her trousers, letting him explore the smooth, naked skin of her legs. She kissed his neck, sending heat racing down his spine. He slid his right hand up her inner thigh until he could stroke her clit through her panties. Her moan urged him on and he slipped one finger beneath the fabric. She was as wet as he was hard, and he curled his slick finger up from her entrance to rub across her clit. Her breathing sped, and she moaned just to tease him. Her tongue was more insistent, demanding more of his mouth.

She tugged her panties free and added them to the pile of discarded clothing. The cool night air was exquisite against his damp skin and the heat of her was more than enough to keep him warm. She reached into his trousers, warpping her hand around his dick and running the length of it. Even the dry touch of her hand was enough to make his body ache for her. She teased him a little, circling the tip with her thumb and brushing him against the all too soft skin of her inner thigh. He released her breasts, caught her hips in his hands and pulled her firmly down. She had little choice but to take him inside of her, and her teeth nipped at his neck with the shock of penetration.

She rocked from one side to other, just enough to fit him comfortably in the tight wetness of her. Normally, he would have flipped her beneath him, but he wanted to spare her the stone against her skin and let her keep control. Kathryn rose on her knees, letting him slide free just a little before taking him deeper than before. She kissed him again clumsily. Her lips ran rough over his as she found a rhythm. He tortured her breast, sucking the nipple until she cried out and he took the other into his mouth. At first she was slow, using a steady rotation of her hips, but as he found her clit again, her use of him grew more desperate.

Rocking her hips down and taking him deep, she panted into his neck. He held her hips, keeping her balanced as she arched her back and leaned away from him. Braced on the rock behind him, he thrust up into her, meeting her with a counterpoint that had them both walking the razor's edge of release. He fumbled with her clit, then smoothly began to roll it between his fingers. She tugged at his wrist, but he kept it up. First she gasped, pressing her forehead into his chest. The gasp became a moan, then a slow, halting cry. He grabbed her shoulders, holding her firm against him while the shaking her her body and the spasms of her around him sent him over the edge into the white-hot abyss. He marked her neck, claiming her as he spilled himself within her.

The stone behind him held him up, and he held her until both of them remembered how to breath again. She lay over him for a time, warm and content. Kathryn kissed his forehead, then his temple as she began ease herself away.

She traced his tattoo in the dark and her fingers followed it so perfectly she must have already committed it to memory. "This is new."

"For my father," he replied, reluctantly handing her back her bra. He pulled her close and kissed each of her breasts before letting her go.

"Sometimes I wonder if I wear the uniform for mine," Kathryn confessed, helping him back into his shirt. "After he died, when I thought about leaving Starfleet, I wondered if I was only in it to make him proud."

He chuckled again, but this time he felt it all the way down in his belly where he'd been a long time without laughter. "Not you, Kathryn. You're in Starfleet because you love it."

"Seems to be the only thing I can love," she replied softly instead of bitterly.

The wind was cool, and he could feel the rain in it. Storms were rough in the desert and they'd had all the time they were going to get. Reluctantly dragging both of them to their feet, he held her face long enough to seal the lines of her into his memory. "Your love is endless," he promised her. "You just need someone worthy to receive it."

She kissed him, holding him close and sharing his soul. There may have been a tear on her cheek as she held him, or perhaps it was the beginning of the rain.

"Storms here are brutal, we have to go." He held her hand, walked her back to the village, and put Kathryn Janeway back into the safest part of his mind. She was too pure for him as he was now. His darkness would never be able to let her go without singeing her.

* * *

Even though Kathryn tried to be quiet, Beverly had been a mother too long not to hear someone sneaking in. She opened her eyes, surfacing slowly from sleep. The wind had picked up since she'd fallen asleep, and it wailed around the little building that was her prison.

Kathryn took off her boots and padded across the stone in her bare feet. She sat down on the bed across from Beverly, and in the weak light of the old Bajoran lantern, Beverly could make out the marks on her chest and neck that were slowly darkening.

"I know those weren't there when you left," Beverly quipped, yawning into her pillow.

Kathryn startled, pulling up her shirt to hide them. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It doesn't take much," Beverly promised, rolling heavily to her side so she could watch Kathryn blush. "I see you found Chakotay."

Kathryn's face contorted through several kinds of chagrin before she finally smiled. "I did."

"And?" Beverly baited. Manoeuvring her pillow so it was easier to look over at the other woman, Beverly waited for her to elaborate. "Kathryn, you can't just come home in the middle of the night after being out in the desert with the darkly handsome ex-commander. Especially not with those kinds of marks."

Sighing, Kathryn tried to get a good look at her neck. "Is it that bad?"

"You didn't tell me he was a biter," Beverly teased her mercilessly. She waved ehr hand towards the medkit by the door. "Come over here with that and I'll help you."

"He didn't bite," Kathryn protested. "At least, I don't think so."

"You bruise easily," Beverly reminded her gently. "Pale skin like yours shows all the marks. Trust me." She paused to frown a little. "A certain captain of the Enterprise may have given me more than my share of suspicious marks."

Kathryn looked mortified at the thought of her commanding officer that way, then she relaxed.

Beverly kept up her smile and wished there was a way she could work without sitting up. "Closer. I don't want to have to leave my bed."

That brought Kathryn's giggles to the surface and Beverly beamed at her. It was easier when she could make her laugh.

"He bites?" Kathryn asked, curiosity winning over her good sense.

Beverly used the wall and the side of her bed to drag herself up to a sitting position. The great weight of the baby was heavy and solid. She buried every wish she had to have her own body back. She would not have this baby in a Maquis camp, no matter how much more comfortable she'd be with it born.

Kathryn set the med kit on the bed beside her, and Beverly knocked her pillow down so she could sit on it.

"He gets carried away," Beverly answered coyly. "I'm sure if I bruised less easily, it wouldn't even be a problem. However, If he lingers too long, my skin loves to turn purple and remind me he was there. Just like yours," she finished, taking a look at the marks circling Kathryn's neck and breasts. "A little dermal regenerator and you'll be alabaster again."

Smirking in response, Kathryn obediently dropped the straps of her bra from her shoulders. "You miss him."

"I feel like part of my soul is gone," Beverly corrected, beginning with the darkest mark on Kathryn's neck. "I wake up and think he's here. I have dreams so vivid I'm absolutely convinced I'm back home on the _Enterprise_. Yes, I suppose that means I miss him." She set the regenerator down and winced and the baby nudged uncomfortably up towards her rib cage. Overhead, the rain began to lash the roof. The tiles forming the roof made each drop loud and percussive. "You know the worst part?"

Kathryn shook her head. "No."

"It's been nine days," Beverly replied, mocking her own pain. "I'm going crazy without Jean-Luc and it's been nine days since I've seen him. If that's not-"

"Romantic-"

"Pathetic-" Beverly finished with a wink. "I don't know what is."

"I think you're allowed to miss your husband," Kathryn insisted. Her sincerity was touching and Beverly tucked a stray lock of her auburn hair behind her ear. The _Enterprise's_ first officer was kind enough to let the extremely maternal gesture go with remark.

"God, I miss him," Beverly agreed. "II can say that much, but anything more I try to avoid mentioning. If I think about it too much-"

"It gets impossible," Kathryn finished for her. The dermal regnerator hummed and obediently chased the last traces of bruising from Kathryn's chest.

Beverly patted her cheek and that drew a look that reminded her of Wesley when he was embarrassed by her. Kathryn was nearly her age, she didn't need to be mothered. Yet, it was nearly impossible to stop herself.

"Sorry," she said with a grin. "I'm doing it to everyone."

"It's charming," Kathryn promised, pulling her shirt back on. She started to leave, but a sudden crack of thunder stopped her cold.

Beverly looked up at the roof, wondering if it would hold as the storm increased its fury all around them. The rain grew steadily louder and angrier, lashing the tiles of the roof like the drums in a Klingon opera. "I think we're all right," she concluded. "It's rained here before and we were fine."

Kathryn's eyes were still on the ceiling and Beverly easily read the tension in her body. She knew how to recognise fear and it was written all over the other woman's posture.

Patting the bed next to her, Beverly resigned herself to not going back to sleep. "Did I ever tell you I'm afraid of heights?"

Standing over the bed, Kathryn glanced down at the hand offering her a space next to Beverly. She brought her gaze up from the bed and smiled weakly. "I don't think it's come up."

Thunder cracked again, this time rattling the crude wood and glass windows. Kathryn debated for one more minute before she scampered up and joined Beverly on the bed.

"Don't worry, I couldn't sleep through this anyway," Beverly lied comfortably. She could sleep through everything as a necessary survival instinct, but if Kathryn detected the lie, she said nothing. The rain grew in intensity, punishing the roof with something harder than water. Possibly hail, by the cracking noise it made.

"What was I saying?"

"Heights," Kathryn reminded her. She crossed her legs in front of her chest and held them close. She easily could have been a child, from the way she sat.

Beverly leaned back against the cool wall and stared into the weak light of the lantern. The last time it had rained, it had gone out, and now it was starting to flicker. How spoiled she was on the _Enterprise_ where everything worked all of the time.

"Jean-Luc and I," she paused and smiled innocently over at Kathryn. "It is all right if I bore you with my husband, isn't it?"

Hail, it had to be by the increase in intensity, poured down out of the sky as if the heavens themselves were falling. The lantern between their beds flicked one more time before it went out. Kathryn's back stiffened and Beverly shifted closer to the other woman.

Her daughter twisted as well, turning in the too tight space of Beverly's womb. She was lower than she'd been before, and Beverly was acutely aware that it was feet more often than arms that kicked into her ribs. Head down was good, even ideal, but she wasn't ready. Her daughter would just have to wait.

"Is this the kind of story of Captain Picard story that I pretend I've never heard, or may I tell him I know it?" The hint of teasing in Kathryn's tone was entirely at odds with the tension Beverly felt in her arm. Reaching across, she took the other woman's hand and brought it to her belly.

"Might as well air on the side of caution," Beverly teased. "I might forget to stop when I get to the juicy details."

Kathryn laughed weakly. "Right."

"I think the little one seems to share your opinion of storms," she remarked gently. No matter how easily she could have fallen back asleep sitting up, Beverly knew the baby would have her up again within the hour and she couldn't leave poor Kathryn alone in the dark listening to the chaos outside. Holding the other woman's hand tightly against her belly and the frightened child within, she sighed and pulled herself back from sleep. She could stay awake.

"I've been afraid of thunderstorms since I was child," Kathryn admitted as lightning flashed across the room. The strobe effect made crisp, terrifying shadows on the wall and Kathryn's shoulder was that much closer to Beverly's.

"I have a distinct and terrible memory of standing on the edge of a cliff on Arveda Three," she left in the name of colony in case they needed that distraction too. "I must have been three or four and I'd gone much closer to the edge than Nana ever would have let me."

"You were an explorer?"

"More rebel than explorer," Beverly corrected regretfully. "If it was forbidden, it was fascinating."

"Right," Kathryn murmured. "What happened?"

"Nothing, thankfully," Beverly continued. "I got out near the edge, wrapped my arm around a tree and stared out into what seemed to be an endless abyss of mist. It was probably less than a kilometre down, but when you're that young, it looks like a black hole. Now I think about going near the edge again, the edge of anything, even the warp core catwalk down in engineering, and my stomach drops away. My hands get sweaty and damp and I'm three years old again."

Kathryn's fingers relaxed just a little and Beverly smiled knowingly.

"So, how does the captain fit into this?"

"The captain," Beverly repeated wickedly. "You see, Jean-Luc would rather be up to his elbows in ancient things than doing anything else, except perhaps sitting on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. The last time we were near Bajor, one of the Starfleet historians exploring the ancient temples of Racantha province sent him a communiqué all about the wonders of this temple. The Temple of Earthly Enlightenment, very old, very important in the Bajoran religion, and of course, something Jean-Luc absolutely must see. So we take a shuttle down there and land on a suspiciously dull steppe. We walk down into the temple and I let down my guard because we're underground, what can possibly be up high underground?"

Kathryn's smirk was clearly visible as lightning crackled above them. Then, almost immediately, thunder shook the roof like an angry god. The storm was right on top of them.

"We walk into the chamber of reflection, which is nice enough: lots of tapestries, and it opens out into the edge of a cliff. Jean-Luc walks over to what I think is a window, maybe a balcony, but no, the Bajorans have built the chamber right to the edge of the cliff, which is sheer rock above and below us for untold distance. I grabbed his arm so hard he thought I was about to faint. I, of course, hadn't thought it necessary to tell my darling husband that heights make me want to crawl into bed with the blankets over my head."

"How long have you known each other?"

Beverly had to laugh. "Twenty-five years."

"And it just never came up?"

"We don't do a lot of rock climbing," Beverly protested playfully. "I bet you haven't told Mr. Darkly Handsome that you hate thunder."

"I've known him three months," Kathryn protested, laughing. "It's not remotely comparable."

"Have you told him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you can't judge."

"When I've known him twenty-five years and still haven't told him, then that might apply, but now you're grasping at straws."

"Would you like to make captain some day, Commander Janeway?"

Kathryn nodded, still laughing but now regarding her curiously. "I had intended to."

"Then stop arguing with the captain's wife. It's not going to get you any closer to the big chair."

"You expect me to believe Will Riker never argued with you?" Kathryn teased, resting her head on Beverly's shoulder.

Beverly patted Kathryn's knee warmly. "He was smart enough to get off the _Enterprise_ before Jean-Luc and I got married, you, unfortunately, haven't been that lucky."

* * *

Eventually, it was Lieutenant Ro's plan Chakotay followed. Ro Laren, who was a beloved protégé of Captain Picard's ever since she'd come aboard with her bad attitude and terrible record two years ago. He'd sponsored her application to advanced tactical training, and as far as Kathryn could tell, put every effort into making the potential screw-up an outstanding officer.

Ro was also undercover. She'd been taken in by another Maquis cell, one run by a kindly Bajoran called Macias. Kathryn had seen him once or twice, and Beverly had confirmed that he was a decent man.

Chakotay believed Ro's defection from Starfleet because Macias believed her. Beverly was putting on an excellent front of betrayal on behalf of her husband, and Kathryn followed her lead when Ro outlined the plan. The Maquis would attack a Yridian convoy full of supplies. Beverly had confirmed that the Cardassians could use the contents to construct a biogenic weapon, and as disgusted as the doctor was with that idea, she stuck to Starfleet principles and argued vehemently for letting Starfleet handle the situation.

Ro had lost all faith in Starfleet, and biting speech about Picard's cowardice and refusal to accept what the Cardassians were doing to the innocent people the Maquis were trying to protect was sitrring. Chakotay was convinced. Macias was convinced, and all of the Maquis cells would work together to stop this Yridian convoy.

Kathryn had expected that the plan to get them out of the village and back to the _Enterprise_ would involve them sneaking away from the nearly empty village when everyone was gone. Instead, Beverly and Kathryn were unceremoniously led into one of the tiny Maquis raiders.

Ro slipped Beverly's commbadge back to her. "The _Enterprise_ should be able to detect you with this. Stay in the cargo area until you hear the shields power up. The pilot of your ship is the son of Admiral Paris, and the Admiral wants him home."

Kathryn knew Tom had run away from his father's anger after the accident that had killed three Starfleet officers. She hadn't known Admiral Owen Paris would go to such lengths to get his son back, but it fit with her mentor.

"Commander, when you're close enough, drop the shields, cut your engines and pretend to suffer a massive power failure. All of our ships are cobbled together and no one will suspect anything. The rest of the Maquis fleet will leave you in the nebula, and you'll be easily picked up by the _Enterprise_."

"What about you?" Beverly asked, dropping her pretense of disgust. "How will you get back?"

"I have to keep my cover," Ro answered evasively. Beverly's blue eyes darkened with suspicion but she said nothing. "Tell the captain-" Ro paused, fighting with something deep within herself. "Tell him I'm sorry. It's been a long time since I felt like I belonged somewhere."

Ro turned sharply and disappeared into the chaos of preparation.

Beverly held her commbadge in her hand and stared at it for a long time before she looked up at Kathryn. Her voice was still and flat when she spoke. "Let's go."

The tiny cargo area of the Maquis raider was less than comfortable, and the hour or so it took them to reach the Hugora nebula and the edge of the Federation border was nerve-racking. Beverly said little, Ro's very real betrayal of her husband had significantly affected the doctor.

"He was so proud when she made lieutenant," Beverly said, staring at the bulkhead behind Kathryn's head. "I don't think he would have been happier if she'd been his own daughter."

The constant hum of the warp drive stopped, and Kathryn nodded to Beverly as she got to her feet. She quickly shut down main power to the shields, and cut all the engines a moment after that. She could hear the pilot, young Mr. Paris, cursing in the cockpit. She'd have to take care of him. "Wait here for me," she told Beverly as she listened at the door.

When Tom opened it, still swearing at his feeble little ship, Kathryn was ready for him. She didn't even have to hit him once he saw Beverly behind her.

"Chakotay sold me out!" he snapped bitterly. "That son of a bitch-"

Kathryn felt for him. It couldn't have been easy to have Admiral Paris for a father, and then making that mistake must have been more than Tom could handle. And yet, instead of doing the right thing, he'd lied and covered up the death of three of his fellow officers. That wasn't someone one could just forget about.

"We need to contact the _Enterprise_," Kathryn ordered him, helping Beverly up to her feet. "I'll try to get you leniency, Mr. Paris. It'll go a lot easier for you if you help return us to the _Enterprise_ now than if I have to knock you out and do it myself."

He took Beverly's other hand and led her up to the co-pilot's seat. His anger for Chakotay didn't stretch as far as the doctor, and Kathryn had hope for the furious young man. "You're Doctor Picard," he realised abruptly. "Half the first fleet is looking for you along the demilitarised zone."

"My husband's an important man," Beverly sighed, trying to get comfortable in her chair. "Thank you, Mr. Paris."

"So what, I'm just turning myself in?" Tom asked Kathryn with an expression painfully reminiscent of her dog when Molly knew she was somewhere she wasn't meant to be.

"I'm afraid so," Kathryn said sympathetically.

"On my first mission?" Tom shook his head. "If Chakotay didn't trust me, he could have just said so."

Kathryn sighed and let Tom continue to berate Chakotay. Maybe she wouldn't have trusted him either or perhaps, Chakotay just wanted to send the young man home before it was too late for Tom and his father.

When the _Enterprise_ came into view like a great white swan in the dark ocean of space, all she could think of was going home. Beverly reached across and grabbed her hand. She was fighting the tears in her eyes, but the relief on the doctor's face was so strong it shone like a stellar cluster. The tractor beam steadied the ship and the transporters took them a moment later. After that, it was over.

Rematerialising on the _Enterprise's_ transporter pad, the three of them only had a chance to stand there for a moment before the captain had Beverly in his arms. He passed Kathryn in a blur of red and black and everyone but Beverly faded from his universe.

She stepped down with a nod to Worf. "Mr. Paris is going to be our guest for awhile."

Tom's eyes widened as the huge Klingon looked him over.

"The brig?" Worf rumbled.

"Confine him to quarters," Kathryn suggested. Perhaps there was still time to rehabilitate the young man. She'd talk it over with Picard, when she had a chance. Maybe tomorrow, when he stopped whispering to his wife and drying the tears in her eyes.

She politely looked away, waiting patiently to be acknowledged or dismissed at his leisure.

Worf pointed Paris towards the door with a sharp look. "Come with me."

Tom was wise enough to realise that arguing with a Klingon was not something he wanted to do, but not quite smart enough not to joke. "Well, if you ask me that nicely, how can I refuse?" he quipped.

Kathryn smirked, listening to Tom leave with Worf as she contemplated the wonders of a hot bath and her own, thunderstorm-free bed. She was yawning when the captain tapped her shoulder to draw her attention.

"I don't know how to thank you, Number One," Picard said with such sincerity that Kathryn's chest stung. The love for his wife radiated from him so strongly that Kathryn was humbled. Beverly had her arm wrapped around his, and she held his hand like she was never letting go. Picard had caught most of her tears, but a few still twinkled in her eyelashes.

"I still can't believe you let him stab you," Beverly teased, smiling gratefully. "He's a fencer, not a knife fighter, it's a miracle I didn't have to replace your whole liver."

Jean-Luc smiled, and to Kathryn's surprise, he chuckled as he kissed the back of Beverly's hand. "To get you back, I had to rise to the occasion."

"I'm happy to be of assistance, captain," Kathryn answered, trying not to yawn again. "Anytime."

Beverly let go of Jean-Luc long enough to hug her tightly, and the embrace startled Kathryn completely. "Thank you," Beverly whispered again. "Thank you."

"It's all right," Kathryn promised. "I'm sure if circumstances were ever reversed, somehow-" If Chakotay needed her back...

"It will be our pleasure to stage your rescue, should you ever require it," Picard promised warmly. He was rarely this exuberant with his emotions, and Kathryn suddenly understood where the depth of Beverly's affection came from. There was much more to Captain Picard than most people ever got to know.

"Ro," Beverly began, her expression darkening. "Jean-Luc, Ro's not coming back."

"No," Picard argued gently. "It's just her cover."

"She asked us to tell you she was sorry," Beverly replied just as kindly. "I don't think betraying Starfleet bothered her. All she seemed to care about was letting you down."

Picard stiffened and tugged down sharply on his uniform jacket. "I'll need a full report."

Kathryn nodded, turning for door. Might as well get started now before she really was tired. "I'll get started on it-"

Picard caught her shoulder and stopped her with an apologetic look. "You'll take the rest of the day off and join us for dinner," he corrected. "Please."

Smiling at little, she acquiesced. "Yes, sir. Thank you, captain."

Picard's eyes went back to Beverly and softened with affection. "Number One, believe me, it's the least I can do."

Watching them return to each other, Kathryn couldn't help wondering if Chakotay would ever be that glad to see her. Even if she'd ever see him again. He had so much anger to work through and it would be a miracle if he survived his desperate fight against the Cardassians. It was a miracle she was willing to spend some time praying for, if only his spirits would listen.


End file.
